I'm With the Beatles

Twist and Shout

"Look at this round of the guns," George gleefully stated as we all walked through the double doors.

"What?" I questioned. I had to get used to their British slang.

"He means big reception," Paul answered for George.

"Well, better get this kick off started," John sang so all could hear.

There were already a bunch of girls dancing to some weird music that, to me, sounded like a new rock n' roll that I've never heard of, since listening to the music of my day. A group of guys had entered and half went to join the ladies; the bar filled with the rest. Once they heard John, all of the women ran up to us like a cat on a mouse!

"Hi, George! Wanna dance with me?" a nasally red-head asked while twirling her hair and smacking her gum.

"I guess so, you're looking pretty nippy tonight," he droned. She squealed in delight and dragged poor George out onto the dance floor.

"He knows as well as we do that she is such a snag," John snickered. He made his way to the bar with a dozen ladies sneaking behind him.

"Maybe I should find me a Judy, too," Ringo sighed as he looked at Paul and I.

Paul gave him a playful punch, "She's not my Judy, Ringo. At least, I don't think she is or wants to be."

I was just too confused over their mumbo-jumbo, so I just smiled at the girl nearest to me.

"Would you like to dance with Ringo?" I asked the blushing brunette.

"Yeah," she yelled as she grabbed his arm.

"Wish me luck," he cried as he was pulled downstairs.

I turned my head to Paul shaking his head to fix his hair. I poked his face and gently giggled.

"Aye, what was that for?" he laughed as he rubbed his cheek.

It was getting a bit awkward standing in front of eight girls begging to do the twist with Paul McCartney. So, I held his hand and led him to the table closest to the bar and the back of the room, much to the ladies' dismay.

"I thought you wanted to dance, Lizzie," he stated with a hint of concern.

"Later! I just want to know what you were talking to Ringo about me being your Judy."

He gave a quick chuckle and looked down at the surface of the red-and-white striped table. He reached for my hand.

"It's not an important subject to discuss right now, sweetie. Let's just go dance with the rest of the guys," he pleaded as he looked at me with puppy eyes.

"Oh, alright! But you promise to talk to me later about it?"

"Of course!"

He clapped and grabbed my hand again. We made our way onto the crowded dance floor as the band that was performing played "The Twist". I felt a little weird dancing with all of these people. I grew up in an age that surpassed this one in dancing techniques, but I danced like the crazy people around me. John was acting really stupid, flapping his arms and making chirping noises. George was just laughing along with the red-head as they twisted. Ringo and the brunette were not even dancing correctly, but were into the groove better than John. Maybe it was because John wasn't really dancing with anyone; he was surrounded by a dozen girls chanting his name.

"John, John, John!"

"Aye, they sure are living people," Paul shouted over the music.

I shrugged my shoulders and just twisted to the beat. Paul saw how determined I was to not bother with the weirdness around us, so he just danced a little bit closer to me. The band finsihed the song and started to play a slow one.